Little Moments
by Rubika-Chan
Summary: On a planet of struggle and suffering, sometimes it's the little moments that matter the most.
1. That Dirty Word

_I'M ALIVE! Yeah, I know I shouldn't be starting another story, but this is mostly for writers block and fun while I rewrite the other chapters I lost. Again._

_Summary: Just a group of one-shots. "Little Moments", mostly between Vash and Wolfwood. Some are inspired by songs, little scenes, actual moments, ect._

_Disclaimer: I don't own Trigun._

_Title: Little Moments_

**Little Moments**

_That Dirty Word_

"Hey, Wolfwood." A tap to the priest's leg snapped him out of his daze.

"What?" Wolfwood blinked the sand from his eyes to focus. The two had been travelling across the desert for several days now, and just staring at endless wasteland with little sleep was taking its toll on him. God, was he tired. Stifling a yawn, he looked down to Vash who was squished in the sidecar.

The blonde gunman was looking up at him in concern. "You ok?"

"Yeah, just tired is all." Wolfwood yawned and stretched, getting ready to get back to driving.

"Want me to drive for a little while, Nick?" Vash asked.

Wolfwood blinked at the offer. The outlaw never asked to drive. And with good reason, his driving skills bordered on horrifying! "I don't think so, Spikey."

"But you're exhausted! Come on, you've been driving this whole time, you deserve to rest. Besides!" He gestured towards the empty horizon. "What could I hit out here?"

The priest was reluctant but Vash was winning the argument, and his own fatigue was winning out as well. "Fine… just be careful, ok?"

Vash smiled and squirmed out of the sidecar, allowing Wolfwood to get in. The skinny man fit much better than Vash himself did, and got seated quickly. Vash then hopped onto the driver's seat and looked back to his companion. Nicholas had already fallen asleep, black hair framing his face, peaceful for once. His smile grew wider and he started the motorbike. Maybe they could switch more often? He was sure Nick wouldn't mind. Now he just had to make sure not to hit anything…

Not too much later, Wolfwood was awoken by Vash's loud scream of "SHIT!" and a sickening crunch of metal. The recoil snapped him to full awareness as well as the peace-loving blonde cussing. His eyes flew open.

His bike.

His bike!

_His bike!_

His beautiful Angelina! The brand new, shiny, fixed up bike was now nothing more than a twisted mess of metal, smoldering from the impact of whatever the hell the bumbling blond buffoon had run into!

"Neeeedle nooogiiiin..." Wolfwood was pissed. Beyond pissed, he was furious! That moron destroyed his precious motercycle by crashing into damn-near nothing! He whirrled around, ready to give the moron the biggest tongue-lashing of his life (and not the good kind) "You-" The cusses caught in his throat.

Vash's hands had flown over his mouth from the outburst. The humanoid typhoon just stared ahead, eyes wide with guilt and his face so pink it was damn near glowing. He just looked so... cute wasn't enough to describe it. Idiotic, that was the term! His own little idiot. Wolfwood couldn't help himself. He couldn't even _pretend_ to be mad anymore. He just laughed. And laughed. And laughed.

"Um..." Vash's face twisted into confusion. "So... you're not mad?"

The priest just laughed harder.

_Well there's my first attempt at writing not only Trigun, but mindless fluff as well. Please let me know what you think!_

_Rubika-Chan_


	2. Losing Track of Time

_Well here's the next little one-shot for Little Moments! Thankyou to those who reviewed the last chapter, any feedback is good feedback! :)_

_Summary: Just a group of one-shots. "Little Moments" Some are inspired by songs, little scenes, actual moments, ect._

_Disclaimer: I don't own Trigun._

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**Little Moments**

_Losing Track of Time_

"Wolfwoooood" Vash poked his head into the doorway, "can I come in?" He immedietly ducked to avoid a pan flung at him.

"Get out! No, you can't come in yet, Needle noggin! Not 'till I'm finished! Now out! Outoutoutoutout!" And with several swipes of a greasy mixing spoon, the outlaw was sucessfully chased from the kitchen. Wolfwood sighed in exasperation and turned back to the warzone. A large bowl stood imposingly on what little counter space was left, the rest covered in flour, eggs, milk -that he was pretty sure wasn't sour yet- and sugar.

It was Spikey's birthday, and Nicholas D. Wolfwood was baking. Or rather trying to. His last few concoctions sat bubbling in the trash (and he hadn't even cooked any yet!), but he was set to try again. How hard could it be? He'd cooked before at the orphanage, just never anything like this.

"Come on, Nick, you used to be a Gung Ho Gun! A feared assassin! One cake should be no problem!" He grabbed the sack of flour once more and dumped a good amount into the bowl. "You just gotta throw this stuff together, right?" An egg and dump of milk later, the priest was proven false. "Goddamnit!" The bowl hit the wall with a _clang_!

"Mister Wolfwood, what are you doing?!"

Wolfwood winced when the shorter insurance girl slammed the door open. He saw her take in the disaster of a kitchen and began ticking off the countdown in his head.

3...

2...

1...

"WHAT IN THE WORLD HAPPENED IN HERE?!"

Once Millie had calmed her partner down, Meryl had wasted no time in rolling back her sleeves, swiping the spoon from Wolfwood's hand, and instructing the priest on how to PROPERLY follow a recepie for Vash's birthday cake. Wolfwood was suprised, despite how short-tempered (hehe "short" tempered...) the girl could be at times (all the time), she was incredibly patient with guiding him through each step of the baking process.

"Now just start the oven and keep track of the time." Meryl wiped her forhead in sucess as the cake mix was placed in the oven. With minimal accidents this time! (Honestly, the priest was almost as bad as Vash at times...) "Mister Wolfwood, are you listening?"

"Yeah yeah, keep track of time then take it out, I got it!" After the girls left, Wolfwood streatched and checked the time. "Eh, I got time to go cool off outside." The kitchen during the day was never a fun place to be. The heat from the oven just served to spike the temperature in the room even higher. "There's a clock in the living room, I'll just keep an eye on that." He had gotten this far, he was determined not to screw it up now!

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Vash glanced at the clock. It had been some time since he'd been chased from the kitchen and things had been suspiciously quiet. He was tempted to check on the priest, but after the last time... he would wait a little while.

He couldn't help the grin on his face as he waited. He knew what Wolfwood was up to, but he was suprised that the priest was putting all his effort into something so small. He didn't need a cake, just being here with him and the girls was enough. But he decided to humor Nicholas and wait like a good boy for him to finish. His eyebrows rose into his hairline when said priest came out of the kitchen, looking none worse for wear, but in one piece. And faster than Vash had expected. It looked like Meryl was a good teacher once she took charge.

"Hey Wolfwood!" Vash sat on the couch and waved. "You done?"

The priest just smirked and shook his head, "Nah, not yet. Gotta wait a little while longer, Needle-noggin." He sat on the seat by Vash and relaxed. It wasn't long before the two were going back and forth, bickering and teasing as per usual, and the inevitable happened. Wolfwood lost track of the time.

"For the last time, Wolfwood! Paper beats rock!"

"That makes no freaking sense!"

"That's how the game works."

"Bullshit!"

Vash smacked himself in the forehead. Note to self: never play rock-paper-scisors with Wolfwood again. ...? What was that smell? "Is something burning?"

Wolfwood's eyes flew open about as fast as the priest flew from his seat. "SHIT!" He raced into the kitchen, followed by a fairly confused Vash.

The kitchen was full of smoke. Absolutely full. You couldn't see a thing. Wolfwood was cussing up a storm as he pulled what looked like charcoal out from the oven. A whole new plume of smoke engulfed the room. Vash was suprised the smoke alarm hadn't gone off. Maybe the last tennants never changed the battery.

_Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!_

Oh. There it was. The beeping of the alarm mixed with Wolfwood's frustrated kicking of the oven was beginning to give Vash a headache.

"Damnit..." Wolfwood growled, coughing from the smoke. He gave the stove another kick, and the sharp pain in his toe just served to add feul to the fire. He felt his eyes begin to burn -from the smoke, damnit!- and furiously wiped at them. "Goddamn..." He choked a bit in suprise when he felt Vash's arms wrap around him and pull him into an embrace.

"Pfft..." Vash couldn't laugh... he couldn't laugh... Wolfwood would kill him if he laughed... Just don't let him see you laugh... He couldn't help his shoulders shaking with the effort to not crack up.

Wolfwood squirmed in his hold, indignation choking his voice, "D-don't laugh!"

"I-I'm not laughing, I swear!" Vash managed through clenched teeth. He couldn't hide the mirth in his voice, nor the amused look in his eyes.

"You are too laughing, you ass!"

"N-no I'm not!"

"I hate you!"

Vash just held him tighter and laughed. Honestly, this had to be the best birthday he had in over a century.

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_Hm... Yeah, kind of cheesy, but a little cheese is good at times! Well tell me what you think, please! My first time just writing little short fluffs, so any feedback is much appreciated :)_

_Sorry it took so long, my writing muse has been nearly nonexistent for a while now, but I'm gonna get her back in the habit if it kills me!_

_I hope you enjoyed it!_


	3. Lost, But Holding Him

_AN: Here's another one!_

_Summary: Just a group of one-shots. "Little Moments" Some are inspired by songs, little scenes, actual moments, ect._

_Disclaimer: I don't own Trigun._

_Pairings: Vash/Wolfwood_

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**Little Moments**

_Lost But Holding Him_

"You sure this is the right way?" Wolfwood grumbled through his fiftieth cigarette that day, looking around at the barren landscape. All these damn paths looked the same.

"I'm positive, Wolfwood!" Vash's face poked up from behind the map and smiled reassuringly at the priest. "We won't get lost this time!"

"Only fools are positive..." He returned his eyes to the road, slightly grateful that the broom-head had decided to graciously ignore his comment. After another hour of nothing but sand and bedrock, however, Wolfwood turned to his companion once more. "You don't got that thing upside down, do ya?"

"Of course not!" Vash sounded almost as exasperated as he felt, but the priest caught him turning the map over out of the corner of his eye. "Uh, turn left, Wolfwood."

"Spikey..."

"No, no, really!" Vash held his hands up pleadingly. "June city should be just a few miles East!"

"It better be..." Wolfwood turned the bike in the direction the outlaw pointed. He hoped Vash was reading that map right. It wouldn't be the first time the moron got them lost, but they were supposed to meet up with the girls by nightfall. By the time nightfall came, however, they were still in the middle of nowhere with no town in sight. "Ok, Needle-noggin, where are we now?"

"Um... Uh..." There was a rustling of the map, "just gimme a sec-"

"Spiiiiikeeeeey..." Wolfwood growled.

"I'm sorry!"

"You idiot, I'm gonna-!" Wolfwood's attack on the blond was cut short by a rumble beneath them. "What was that?"

Before Vash could respond (With difficulty seeing as the priest was currently attempting to strangle him) the ground spoke for him. No more than three yarz from their right, the rocks erupted in a geyser of hot steam.

"We're in steam jet country!" Wolfwood roared, ready to continue throttling Vash. "June is nowhere near steam country!"

"Wolfwood! Wolfwood, go back! Go back! Back! Back, back, back!" Vash was sputtering frantically, waving his arms as the arcs of steam drew closer. "Reverse! REVERSE!"

With hands clumsy from haste, and more than a few curses, the priest managed to slam gears on the bike and tear back the way they came; seconds before a blast of steam shattered the ground where they had been moments before.

"Go! Go-go-go-go-go!" Vash was squealing like a pig, clinging to the sidecar for all he was worth as geysers burst all around them.

"SHUT UP, SPIKEY THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!"

"Blame me later, just GO FASTER!" A jet of steam shot next to the sidecar, singing the elbow of Vash's body armor. "AIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

"Oi! Let go of me, I can't steer!"

"MOMMYYYY!"

It wasn't until the sounds of the violent jets and shattered bedrock had faded that the two stopped. Or, rather, Angelina III (or IV by now, Vash had lost count) sputtered and came to a halt. The two travelers looked more than worse for wear; the ends of Vash's blond spikes were singed brown and smoldering, and Wolfwood was sure his own hair was standing up on end like one of those damn cats when you stepped on their tail. The two were silent for stretch of time before Angelina gave her all-too familiar death rattle and lay silent.

"..."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"...I think your bike died..."

"...Yeah, I think so too..."

"...We should get off now..."

"...Yeah..."

After ungluing themselves from the motorcycle and her sidecar, Wolfwood took a look around while Vash gingerly stretched his fingers. He hadn't been paying a lick of attention to where they were going, only trying to get through the disaster zone unscathed. It hadn't quite worked, but neither of them had wound up crispy-fresh either, so he considered it a job well done.

"Hey, you see anything?" The blond trotted up next to him and Wolfwood wrinkled his nose at the scent of burned hair. Damn, they had been close, hadn't they?

"Nothin' familiar, but..." He took off his shades (they had been forgotten in the chaos of the day) and squinted into the distance. He could have sworn he saw patches of light out there. Well, light meant power and power meant a city! "Looks like we found civilization!"

Vash took a look, his own sharp eyesight spotting the speckled city, but also seeing the true distance. "We'd be walking all night to get there."

"Well if somebody hadn't gotten us lost-"

"I'm sorry, ok!" Vash whined. "But I'm tired and sore and it's too far for tonight!"

"Tch." As much as he hated to admit it, the moron had a point. Wolfwood could feel the abused muscles in his back protesting the idea of lugging the Punisher that distance, and, really, night wasn't the best time to travel on foot. "Fine, fine, quit'cher whinin'!" He propped the cross against Angelina's remains and plopped down into the sand by their side. He was determined to find the coziest patch of dirt there and sleep. Let the Needle-noggined idiot find his own makeshift bed! He yawned and stretched, laying back and knowing full-well he'd have sand everywhere come morning. Well shit, morning could go hump itself.

It wasn't long, however, before a pair of arms snaked around his middle and pulled him against the warm body behind him. "Spikey..."

"Hm?"

"Go find your own dirt."

"But it's comfy here."

"Too damn bad."

But the blond paid no heed to his grumbles and simply held him tighter, nuzzling the back of his neck in content. Well, damn. Though, if Wolfwood wanted to be honest with himself (why the hell would he? Not like he wasn't honest with everyone else) the gentle warmth of Vash curled up next to him was increasingly comforting, and more comfortable than shivering in the cold desert night alone. Squirming slightly to turn, he glanced over his shoulder at the outlaw behind him. Vash had already fallen asleep, his breath evening out over the back of Wolfwood's neck, and face calm and relaxed. No glassy-eyed plastic grin that made the priest want to punch him, no look of anguish when that mask was torn down. Just peace. And a ghost of a real smile on his lips.

Unable to help himself, Wolfwood turned to face the plant and gently kissed that smile he loved. "'Night, Spikey." Satisfied, he settled down to sleep.

"Night, Nick."

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_AN: Bleh, sappy again XD Trying to steer clear of the angst... at least for now._

_I must say, I am having a lot of fun writing these, the characters are so complex it makes them a blast to work with. I'm planning on other chapters featuring some of the other characters too, not just these two (though they are my favorite)._

_Well, please review and let me know how it's working out! Or if you feel someone is OOC please let me know. (oh, and if anyone has any ideas or requests they would like, feel free to say so. I'm always looking for other ideas!)_

_Till next time!_


	4. La Mustache

_AN: Changing it up a little bit._

_Summary: Just a group of one-shots. "Little Moments" Some are inspired by songs, little scenes, actual moments, ect._

_Disclaimer: I don't own Trigun._

_Pairings: None really, maybe some Vash/Meryl or Milly/Meryl if you squint and tilt your head..._

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_La Mustache_

"Meryl, Meryl!"

"Hunh?" Meryl Strife opened her eyes. And immediately regretted it. "Ugh, why does morning have to come so soon..." With a groan, the petite insurance girl sat up properly in her chair, multiple papers sticking to her face as she did so.

"Um, Meryl?" Milly was standing at her shoulder, doing her best not to laugh. "You've got some paper on your face." She let out a few giggles, but held in the guffaws to save her friend some dignity.

"Dammit." Meryl grumbled as she peeled the pieces of her report off her cheeks. "I fell asleep again! I don't have ink on my face, do I?"

"Hm..." Milly studied her face extensively. "Nope! Good for you, Miss Meryl! No ink smudges today!"

The shorter girl sighed in relief. "Good. I don't have time to wash it off right now." She stood and stretched, seeing the time. "We need to get to work."

"Um, Meryl?"

"Hm?"

"Don't you think you should rest some more?"

Meryl rolled her eyes, though she was touched by Milly's concern. "I'll be fine, Milly we have work to do." And with that, she quickly combed her hair, took a quick sniff, tugged her shoes on (she slept in her work clothes) and left. As she was entering the main building of the Bernardelli Insurance Society, Meryl passed a reflection of herself in the mirror.

Yikes!

No wonder, Milly had been so worried! Meryl slapped her cheeks a few times to try and give them color and did her best to look awake. She'd ask Karen for some makeup to hide the dark circles later. It couldn't be helped, she supposed. Ever since the fifth moon incident last year, she and Milly had been called back to the BDAS (which Milly once accidentally abbreviated as BADASS) in the context that a literal natural disaster couldn't be insured. Or some bull-crap like that. They'd been stuck doing desk work as they had before, but Meryl just couldn't get her head into it like before.

Vash.

She was so worried about Vash. No one had heard hide-nor-hair of him since the disaster at Augusta, and many people thought him dead... but they wouldn't believe that! In fact, she and Milly had been searching for him in all their spare time. Asking around, honing in on broadcasts, even just scanning the horizon with binoculars. Anything to keep looking. Anything to keep from giving up.

It was because of this that she had been running herself dry lately, still keeping up with her workload during the day, and searching for any information on Vash at night. Milly was suffering too, having interrogated half the town about "Mister Vash"'s whereabouts and attempting to stay up through the night with her. But old habits die hard, and the taller girl was usually sound asleep by eleven. She just hoped she would be able to stay awake through her shift today...

"STRYFE!"

Meryl winced as Mr. Henkle, her boss, stormed up to her desk. He was a round, pudgy man whose hair had migrated from the top of his head down to the thick, handlebar mustache he proudly sported. As usual, he did not look pleased. She sat up straighter in her chair, bracing herself. "Yes sir?"

"Don't 'yes sir' me, missy!" Oh, he was in a bad mood. She barely resisted the urge to cringe as the large man leaned towards her. "You know we take our jobs very seriously here at Bernardelli Insurance, correct?"

Meryl frowned a bit. Of course she knew that, she probably took her job more seriously than most of the other employees combined! "Of course sir, I-"

"Then why is it," he cut her off, "that I've noticed a slack in your work as of late?"

Her eyes widened in indignation. Slack? What slack?! She and Milly were working themselves to the bone! Her poor partner could barely keep her eyes open during the day!

"But sir." Milly must have overheard, rushing from her seat at the window to her superior's aid. "We've been working really hard since coming back, sir, especially Miss Meryl!"

"I don't want to hear any excuses, Miss Thompson!" He glowered at them beneath his thick, wiry whiskers. Oh, how Meryl hated that mustache. The whole company did. The ugly thing sat on his face like a dead toma, and the bushy mess had the habit of catching bits of whatever expensive food he'd had that day, which sprayed with his spit on any unfortunate soul that incurred his wrath. Which, sadly, had been poor Meryl as of late.

"Ever since your disaster of a job with the Humanoid Typhoon, your work has been just as piss-poor and sloppy since you came back!" So that's what this was about... Karen had warned her about this; apparently Henkle was planning on using their "success" at keeping the legendary outlaw out of trouble as part of his advertisings scheme and pathetic grasp at fame. "And if you have enough time to be wasting the company's resources looking for that freak, then you clearly haven't been working hard enough! So as of now, your workload has doubled."

That son of a-! She couldn't take on more work! Meryl felt her face head up in anger. This wasn't about her work, Henkle was just upset that his one claim to fame (albeit a lame one) had been mucked up and was looking for someone to blame. Deciding the best course of action at the moment was to retreat before she said something she regretted, she rose from her seat and stiffly stormed towards the bathroom.

"Meryl!" Karen quickly rose from her typewriter and followed suit.

Milly glanced at their head of office, pink-faced in anger. "You're a mean old man!" And with those scathing words, she went into the bathroom after her friend as well.

"You're getting penalized for that, Thompson!"

Meryl splashed the cold water on her burning face, hoping to calm down. It helped, but only marginally. That old bastard had some nerve! If she didn't love her job so much she'd have half a mind to quit and just walk out! But that also wouldn't be fair to Milly, she supposed. And she didn't want to cause her partner any trouble and have Henkle's anger directed at the poor girl instead. No, she would just have to suck it up for now, and hope it would simmer out soon.

She still wished there was something she could do to get back at that man...

Late that night, Mr. Hank Henkle slept soundly in his four poster bed, snoring loud enough to drown out the slight creak of the door opening. Had he woken up, he would have seen the figure grinning maliciously in his doorway, or heard their soft footsteps up to the side of his bed. But as it was, he just slept soundly, ignorant of the intruder's sharp object aiming towards his face...

Meryl yawned, the dark circles under her eyes unable to be hidden this morning, and waiting for her coffee to kick in. Curiosity was likely the only thing keeping her awake at the moment. Something strange was going on, as every employee of the Bernardelli Office was lined up in the lobby. They hadn't been told why, and were waiting for the explanation. She heard the telltale tromps of Mr. Henkle's footsteps coming into the room. Well looks like they were going to find out soon...

"Oh my god!"

"What the-?!"

The lobby immediately filled with laughter as Meryl squirmed her way to the front of the line to see what was happening. What was everybody laughing at? Once she wormed her way next to Karen, she got her answer. It was all she could do to keep from snorting with laughter herself.

"IT ISN'T FUNNY!" Henkle screeched. His face had turned a striking shade of purple, the vein in his forehead looking like it was about to pop out of his face. His perfectly shaved face. The mustache was gone, chopped off, leaving Henkle's face bare and weak-looking chin exposed. What on earth?

"Now I know someone here is responsible for this!" Henkle snarled, though much less intimidating without his prized lip-beard. "And I want the truth now! Whoever did this is going to pay!" He paced in front of the crowd, gazing from face to face until his beady eyes zoned in on the culprit.

There stood Milly Thompson, usual sunny smile in place, and Henkle's thick mustache firmly glued onto her upper lip.

Due to the lack of company policy having to deal with "mustache theft", Milly hadn't been fired. She had, however, been sentenced to window-wiping duty for an unspecified amount of time. But she didn't mind. Seeing her superior laugh and smile for the first time since Mr. Vash had disappeared made it more than worth it.

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_AN: First time really using the Insurance Girls XD I love them though..._

_Once again, please review and let me know how it's working out! Or if you feel someone is OOC please let me know. (oh, and if anyone has any ideas or requests they would like, feel free to say so. I'm always looking for other ideas!)_

_Till next time!_


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